I Can’t Makeup This

photo (22)

“I’m going to do some work in the office,” Tracey told me about an hour ago.

“Me too,” I told her.

Tracey’s office is our converted shed. Mine is the balcony.

Tracey’s work today is editing photos. Mine is surfing Facebook.

Both our families are due here in less than an hour to sing Happy Birthday to Miss8, so we’ve spent a couple of hours this morning cleaning up (hiding the mess) so they can pretend they raised us right.

“Can you kids get out of your pj’s now?” I said to the kids. Clearly the school holidays have started because it was 2pm.

“Daddy,” said the birthday girl. “Can I put on some makeup and dress up nice?”

“Sure,” I said. “Sounds good.”

Sounds good?! Sounds like a disaster waiting to….oh, look, she’s back.

“What do you think?” she grinned at me.

I thought makeup was something which came naturally to you women-folk? I thought naming something lip stick would give a hint as to where on your face it should be applied?

I thought wrong.

“You are a pioneer,” I told her because it’s her special day. “And you’re really going to stand out in your birthday photos.”

“We both are,” she said.

Both? Ah, I see she’s helped get Miss3 ready for the party too. Nice.

Maybe Tracey won’t notice.

Ah, good. Here she comes down from her office now….


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“Raising a family on little more than laughs”

Can't hardly even tell, yeah?
Can’t hardly even tell, yeah?


  • She didn’t even miss a step. I think we’re wearing her down 🙂 Plus Miss3 helped. Usually no one can understand what she’s saying but she just stood up at the table in front of her four grandparents, great grandmother and gathered family, pointed at her sister and announced in perfect English, “Sophie’s a bitch.”

  • I feel obliged to mention we generally don’t say bitch around here. It’s one of those no no words.

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